


Writober 2019

by TheWolfWhoWaited



Series: Sky Above, Voice Within [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Fictober 2019, Tags to be added, virthiefictober 2019, writetober 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 22:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 8,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20825153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWolfWhoWaited/pseuds/TheWolfWhoWaited
Summary: Writetober 2019!Miraak and Cara-centric writetober prompts!





	1. Prompt list

Hey everyone! This is my first fic/writetober I've done, so lets see if I can keep up with this while also completing the last year of my undergrad!

Just a quick note!! None of these little snippets will have a greater bearing on the story of Cara and Miraak, but that's not to say they might not influence things later on! So nothing in here is canon pretty much, unless I note otherwise! Enjoy!!

Day 1: Fear

Day 2: Nightmare

Day 3: Loss

Day 4: Vampire

Day 5: Afterlife

Day 6: Scorched

Day 7: Moon

Day 8: Wounded

Day 9: Shipwrecked

Day 10 Snowstorm

Day 11:A quiet night

Day 12: Alone

Day 13: Fight

Day 14: Scars

Day 15: Wandering

Day 16: Dreams

Day 17: Darkness

Day 18: Training

Day 19: Death

Day 20: Stars

Day 21: Trapped

Day 22: Academia

Day 23: Song

Day 24: Succubus

day 25: Family

Day 26: Soft

Day 27: Power

Day 28: Ruins

Day 29: Daylight

Day 30: Doom

Day 31: All Hallows Eve


	2. Fear

Miraak has only known true fear but a few times in his long life.

Once, when he was a boy, when he and Vahlok went swimming, though Morokei told them not to. A massive fish with even more massive teeth had taken Vahlok and pulled him under. The young Miraak’s blood had turned to ice in his veins, as a desperate and first Shout erupted from his lips.

The second time, Vahlok was standing above him, his brother’s sword at his throat, his boot on his chest. Miraak felt fear then, that he would die, that it would be his brother that killed him.

Then he would not feel true fear for thousands of years, not until the woman he loved was stricken with vampirism. His entire being seized with the thought of losing her.

All paled in comparison to the fear that gripped him now.

The battle raged around them, and he shouted at Sahrotaar to fly where she had been knocked off of Odahviing. Miraak hadn’t heard her _Thu’um_, so there was only a very slim chance that she survived the fall, with the use of magic. The great red dragon was wounded by the massive magical blast, and half-landed, half-fell a good ways from the battle.

The blue-green serpentine dragon landed on the ground with a thud, Miraak jumping off his back before he even fully landed, cutting down a foe that dared to try and strike him with an arching swipe of his sword.

“You cannot be dead, _dii kest, dii strun, dii lovaas_, my Cara _please_, do not be dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dii kest - my tempest  
dii strun - my storm  
dii lovaas - my song


	3. Nightmare

Nightmares were not terribly uncommon to Cara, though she found that Miraak’s presence seemed to calm them, to where she hardly had them anymore.

Ones that would make her wake screaming at least. 

Her disposition did not betray her plagued mind, the things she’s seen, the things she’s experienced.

Liches deep in Ayleid ruins, half mortal, half eldritch horror.

Cara still had no idea how she managed to destroy them, nor the dread zombies that also shambled in the corridors of deep ruins.

She had nightmares of Summerset, of things she wished long ago would leave her.

They never did.

As much as she longed for the white beaches, the clear water, vibrancy of everything that Skyrim lacked, she knew that Summerset was so far out of reach for her, likely for the rest of what would be a very long life.

Her father was there, the Thalmor was there, _he_ was there.

And sometimes, the nightmares would just simply prey on her worst fears.

_“What is your name, laat Dovahkiin.”_

_“Carawen.”_

_“And you know who I am?”_

_She nodded, and he stepped away, turning back to his desk._

_“You’re Miraak, the first Dragonborn, First Mage of the Dragon Cult, and traitor.”_

_He looked at her over his shoulder._

_“Mora struck my name from anything written about me, and the cult did the rest what Mora could not. How do you know so much?”_

_“Bronjunaar. As far as I can tell, it used to house the records of all Dragon Priests. The Hall of Stories recorded all of the First Mages. There was one scratched out, ‘traitor’ written across his likeness. I couldn’t find any record of him, and when you sent those assassins after me, I asked Odahviing. He filled in the missing pieces of history.”_

_“I did not send assassins after you. I did not know of your existence until a few moments ago.”_

_Confusion washed over her face. “There’s cultists in your temple, I found a note that said ‘you’d be pleased at my death'.”_

_“I wouldn’t be pleased. I do not want to see you die, but,”_

_He sighed and turned to face her fully, his hand coming to rest on the sword at his side. Cara followed the movement, sparks coming off of her fingertips._

_He took a step towards her._

_“I need your power to return to Tamriel.”_

_As he drew his sword, Cara took a step backwards, her hands up in a placating gesture._

_“Wait! Just a moment, please.”_

_His eyes seemed to burn under his mask, but he did not relent. _

_“This is what must be done, Dovahkiin. You have to die so I can live, krosis.”_

_Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest, but she pushed her fear down. Lightning gathered around her; she didn’t want to fight him, but she would if she had too. The Black Book had fallen from her grasp and skittered across the floor when she landed in this Gods-forsaken place. She just had to grab it, and she could leave, and this would all be over. _

_“FUS RO DAH!” She Shouted, the extra force of a storm of lightning trailing after her Thu’um, trying to get him away from her. _

_It did nothing, her magic just washing over him, as if it was just the wind. _

_She bolted to the book, her fingers just brushing the spine when she felt him grab at her long hair and pull, sending her back and sprawling across the ground. _

_With his free hand, he grabbed her by her neck and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, closing off her throat, she struggled to breathe. She gripped his arm, trying to relieve the pressure. _

_“Wait-“ she choked out. This was wrong. All of this was so wrong. This was the man she loved, wasn’t it? This isn’t how this happened. _

_She could feel the tip of his sword dig into her chest, but he paused. _

_“My darling- this isn’t- you—” she let go of his arm and grabbed his mask and tore it off. _

_He didn’t look as he did before, after she got him out of Apocrypha. His stormy-blue eyes were clear, not tainted by his years in the Daedric realm. His gaze held no warmth, no love._

_That was the last thought that entered her mind and he thrust the sword through her chest, and she felt her soul be ripped from her, a black void smothering everything. _

_This wasn’t right. _

_Wake up. _

Her eyes shot open, the only light in the room coming from the dying fire in the fireplace. Taking a few measured breaths, she gripped Miraak’s hand, which was draped over her waist, his bulky frame curled around her, his warmth at her back grounding her back to reality. She didn’t want to wake him, but she shifted, turning around in his embrace, gripping his shirt and resting her forehead against his chest. She breathed with him, feeling herself calm down. Miraak shifted, holding her closer to him, his arms coming to wrap around her in a protective embrace.

Cara let herself fall asleep again like that, the sounds of Miraak’s steady breathing and heart lull her mind at ease.


	4. Loss

Though Miraak had gained many things since Cara saved him from Apocrypha; for that was what happened, she came up with the way to get him out, though it failed, but she _did_ them out, then she saved his life. He gained her, her love, and everything that came with it. He gained the opportunity to see the world unlike he hadn’t before. He gained friends, though they are often not thought of as friends by the priest.

But for every new thing he gained, he lost so, so much.

He was the last Atmoran. The last of the Dragon Priests. The last of the Dragon Cult. The last of an entire culture.

Aside from _ok lovaas_ and the _dov_, he was the last to speak _dovahzul_. The magics the cult used, that even just the mages at the time used were lost; he the last receptacle of knowledge that wouldn’t have to be pieced together from scraps of knowledge.

Even the mask Cara gifted him, one to replace the one Mora had forced upon him, while was of fine craftsmanship, it was cobbled together from magics that even she didn’t really understand.

As time went by, Miraak realized exactly how isolated he was in this new world he was in. It didn’t feel as four thousand years had passed, it felt as if nothing was the same. Even the landscape of Skyrim he hardly recognized anymore, with the Cult’s cities and landmarks long since crumbled into nothing.

He learned the common tongue that was spoken across Tamriel through the tomes that found their way into Apocrypha, but even then the language was always evolving.

The culture of the Nords perplexed him. It was _just_ enough like Atmora, like the Cult, yet it was also nothing like it. How the Nords thought magic weak, for one.

They glamorized war, reveled in it, even.

And then there was the multitude of other cultures that spread wide across the continent, the most important to him was that of the Altmer.

Learning Aldmeris had proven a challenge, as it was so unlike _dovahzul_ and common, Daedric even. The flowing and soft sounds sounded foreign to him, but he wanted to master the language for her, so that she would not be as alienated like he was.

One Summer, they had found themselves in Bronjunnar, a gaggle of Apprentices in tow.

It was always snowy here, it was expected. Odahviing had flown overhead, roosting up at Skyborn.

The amount of snow, however, was abnormal. Every morning, right before dawn, the guard would use magic to clear the streets. Now, it was packed thick, to the point where he was sure that the road he once tread on so often was several feet below him.

The above city itself was in ruins, most of the buildings crumbling or just nonexistent. When they opened the great doors of Bronjunna, it seemed to sink in more that everything he once knew was gone.

He had grown up here, in these halls. Walked and ran through them every day for nearly twenty years with Vahlok.

Miraak wandered through the ruined halls, trying to make is way through what was ruined and destroyed.

Before he realized, his feet had carried him down the crumbling passages and to the threshold of his old room, when he was but still an Apprentice.

The room was half-collapsed, a fitting image to everything that had happened after he left the capitol.

He would never wish that he had not strayed, that he would have remained the First Mage for the rest of his life, he had gained things far too precious to him, but he still felt like a relic of ages long since past.

With Cara next to him, he felt as if he wasn’t a relic, but in times like this, he felt his age.

He felt the weight of all that he had lost on his shoulders.

His father, though he hadn’t called Morokei that for years until he had died.

His brother, Vahlok, though in the end they were bitter enemies.

His people, though they named him a traitor and erased his name from history.

His culture, dismantled and destroyed after the dragons were overthrown.

Everything he once knew, just, _gone_.


	5. Vampire

He felt his life draining from him, and for a few long moments, his body was pliant under her fangs.

The _dovah_ in him _screamed_ at him to do something, to stop this, and it was enough to shake the control she had over him.

She paused, and he felt her fangs leave his neck and he threw her off of him.

Miraak panted, slumped against the wall, a weakened spell at his fingertips, to ward her off.

He watched in no small amount of horror as his blood dripped from her mouth, and as a deep red overtook the vibrant violet of her eyes.

“Cara-“

The feral look on her face lessened at the sound of her name from his lips.

She looked down at the blood on her hands. His blood.

Shaking her head, she looked up at him and backed away from him. She scrambled around the room, shoving things in her bag and pulled on her boots.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered and bolted out the door.

He wanted so desperately to run after her, but he just sunk farther down the wall until he hit the floor. His vision was clouded, and Miraak knew that he would pass out from blood loss at any second.

The last thought that ran through his mind as his vision turned black was how he had lost her. She would disappear into the wind now. He felt it in his bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this was one kinda short, if I didn't stop it there this would have been an entire fic
> 
> Speaking of!! At some point i wanna write a short AU about Vampire!Cara and I'll probs use this as a jumping off point!


	6. Afterlife

Cara never imagined that she would walk the grounds of Sovngarde again, but she was thankful to. All her friends were here, and if she was here, that meant that he was as well.

Tsun greeted her with a warm smile and a small bow, and let her across the whale bone bridge once more.

The heat of the Hall of Valor was welcoming.

She was greeted with cheers and mugs raising in salute. She grinned. Familiar faces poked out though the crowd, and she felt a familiar pair of arms come up from behind her, picking her up and squeezing her tight.

“Farkas!” she laughed. It had been so, so many years since she had seen her dear friend.

He looked as he did when he was younger, and she suspected she didn’t show her many, many years anymore either.

Vilkas embraced her next, then Kodlak, Balgruuf, so many other dear friends she had made in her long life.

Through the throng of people, she saw him, young, like when they had first met, his robes the deep purple ones she had made him literal ages ago. Cara nearly cried when she saw him. It had been so long, she could hardly believe it.

She was always destined for a long life, she was elven, and a powerful mage. She had never wished for a life that saw thousands of years pass, but she was thankful for her time never the less. And because of her still-younger life when she had sprung Miraak from Apocrypha, they knew that the day would come that one of them, likely him, would meet the inevitable fate that all had to- death.

Auri-El had come to take his soul and shepherd the First Dragonborn’s soul to Sovngarde. She mourned, along with their still-living children and family, though Cara knew that she was also not long for the world. She had been there for her children, their children, _their_ children. Her love was gone. Her work was done.

She welcomed the afterlife with open arms.

“My darling, how I’ve missed you.” Cara couldn’t help the errant tear that escaped her eye as she ran into his arms once more.

Eternity with her love? There wasn’t any place she’d rather be.


	7. Scorched

“What do you mean a dragon is attacking the Western Watchtower?” Cara asked, panic settling into her gut.

Ruins and undead she could handle, but not this. Even still, she was more capable than many to combat a magical creature such as a dragon. She wouldn’t cower away from it.

Vilkas glanced at his twin. The three of them had returned not an hour ago from Bleak Falls Barrow with the Dragonstone, and now this.

“Let’s go, Farkas, go get Aela and Skjor” His silver-grey eyes turned to Cara. “You stay here.” The warriors turned and quickly made their way down the Great Hall, Cara trailing after them.

“You’re not going out there without a mage in the field.”

“Stay _here_.” The Nord barked at her, but she still followed.

Vilkas glared at her, Cara stared back.

“Stay on the walls of this city, you’re not going out there. You’ll be the last line of defense if it gets past us.”

“Fine.”

They nearly ran though the city, and true to her word, Cara stayed on the walls of Whiterun, outside the gate, her violet eyes tracking the Companions and company of guards running towards the tower smoking in the distance. 

Something changed in the wind, she could feel it, but she had no idea what it was.

The roars that came from the beast in the distance echoed across the field, the guards around Cara adjusting their grip on their drawn weapons.

The sound unnerved those men, but not her.

Despite the threat of a dragon attack, Cara felt more calm than she had in the last several days, perhaps even longer.

Cara stared at the great shadow that flew in the distance, enraptured by it.

“It’s coming this way!” one of the men next to her shouted, shaking her out of her trance.

The word she had read in Bleak Falls Barrow echoed in her mind, _fus_\- force. Others swirled in her head as well, clouding her mind until the dragon was nearly on top of her, and she let the power that was threatening to spill from her lips out.

“_YOL TOOR SHUL!_”

Fire erupted from her lips, catching the dragon off guard, it screaming and trying to backpedal in midair.

Seeing the creature stunned, she hurled lightning at it, forcing it back still. It seemed to regain its wits, as it soon also sprayed fire down upon her on the walls, but Cara felt it inhale more than saw, and threw up the strongest and largest ward she could, blanketing the area- and the guardsmen in it with protection.

The dragon climbed higher in the air after its attack did nothing.

“_Dovahkiin!_” it shouted.

The archers tried to bring the great creature down with arrows, but they did nothing against its hard outer scales.

Violet eyes met gold as the dragon hovered in the air, before letting another barrage of fire rain down on Cara.

She held the fire back with another ward, before sending the energy barrier flying forward towards the creature, knocking it out of the air with the force of the impact.

She cloaked herself in lightning and approached the dragon, which was struggling to regain its bearings.

A small storm brewed around her as she pulled at her magicka stores.

“Stay back!” she shouted to guards.

Her eyes seemed to glow with an otherworldly light as she channeled the magic and energy through her, and she saw the fear in the dragon’s eyes as it realized it would not be able to take flight before she unleashed her magic.

Briefly, she glanced and saw Vilkas and the others running towards them.

“_Dovahkiin, niid!_” the dragon shouted, right before Cara let the magic loose.

The dragon screamed, which shook the heavens and made everyone but her flinch from the sound.

The great beast stilled, and then began to evaporate, energy dancing around it, around her.

Above her, the sky thundered.

“_DOV AH KIIN!”_


	8. Moon

The Moons held a different meaning to Miraak. They were always changing, but always there. Masser and Secunda looked unchanged from his time in the Cult, though they did not call them that.

He found himself often enjoying the night more than he did the daytime, despite enjoying the feeling of the sun upon his skin once again after so long. But it was always light in Apocrypha, even if not naturally. The night was quiet, contemplative.

And he would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t adore the way the moonlight reflected off of Cara’s raven hair, and make her skin glow.

She always had a glow about her, he found, but it changed between the sun and moons.

He nearly envied her, how she radiated this calm, warming light. He guessed that was why people were drawn to her, far more than they ever were to him. Those that were drawn to him were drawn to him for his power, not like her.

Despite the cold wind that blew in from Atmora to the far North, she was up on the roof of the College with him, stargazing.

“What intrigues you the most about the night sky, my darling?” she asked him, tucked into his side.

He was silent for a few moments. “It is the one thing that hasn’t changed from my time in Apocrypha. All the stars are the same, the moons.” He glanced down at her, her violet eyes gazing up at him.

He adored her expressive eyes, and now they seemed to reflect the endless night sky back at him.

She was the night sky, calming, radiant, her love and compassion endless.


	9. Wounded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being kinda like part 2 of the first day's prompt! Enjoy!!

“You cannot be dead, _dii kest, dii strun, dii lovaas_, my Cara_ please_, do not be dead.”

Her robes were torn and scorched, Konahrik knocked from her with the force of the blast that had sent her plummeting to the ground below.

Despite the battle that still raged around them, Miraak ignored everything else, his vision tunneling to only be on her. Distantly he registered Sahrotaar’s Voice barreling through the masses, the dragon protecting both Miraak and the fallen Last Dragonborn.

He tried not to move her much, lest she had broken bones, but he gingerly cradled her to his chest.

“Come back to me, please.” He whispered against her hair.

She was bleeding from her head, which he knew always made it look worse than the actual injury was, but her unconsciousness worried him.

Tears sprung to his eyes. “_Please._ Cara, please wake up.”

She still lay in his arms, lifeless.

He poured everything he had into his spell, trying to get her to hold on.

She had the soul of a _dov_, so he assumed that if she was dead, he would take her soul like he would any other dragon.

He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if that happened. If she died.

Miraak saw her eyes flutter ever so slightly, where he though it was his eyes playing tricks on him or even the wind.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, though they were unfocused.

“Miraak?”

“I’m here, _dii lovaas._”


	10. Shipwrecked

Cara felt as if she had been kicked by a horse. Slowly, she opened her eyes, the bright sun beating down harshly on her face. Slowly taking note of her surroundings- she was on land.

The attack.

Miraak.

She rolled over in the sand, and struggled to her knees. There were soldiers picking themselves up in the sand like her, but not nearly enough for what was on the ship. She searched every figure, desperately looking for the Atmoran.

“Miraak!” she called out, her voice hoarse from the saltwater.

“I’m here _dii kest_!” he yelled from across the beach, carrying two Imperials out of the ocean. She stumbled towards him, and fell into his arms after he had set the mostly-unconscious men in the white sand.

Cara looked around at the beach, the Ayleid ruins that dominated the island behind them, Skywatch in the distance.

“I know where we’re at, at least.” She told the Atmoran.

“Tend to the wounded, and salvage as much as you can!” she shouted to the soldiers. “We can’t call for Odahviing or Sahrotaar, we’re too close to Skywatch, they’ll know we’re here.” She told Miraak. “We can take refuge in the ruins, we have to hide, and quickly. They’ll likely send out ships to look for survivors.”

“I’ll scavenge.” He replied.

“I’ll go tend to the wounded.”

They parted ways, anxiety creeping into her gut.

She couldn’t believe they had been caught off guard like that, but then again, Summerset was renowned for its Navy.

Of the hundred or so that was on the ship, barely twenty had made it to the beach with their lives.

The ruins of Errinorne Academy would only protect them for so long, and with likely so little supplies, they would have to find a way to contact the Empire before they were found on the little island so close to the capital of Auridon.


	11. Snowstorm

The snow had caked into her lashes to the point where she could barely see.

Cara forced her frozen limbs deeper into the glacier that must hold the doors to Alfland. She was beginning to regret taking Farkas and Vilkas up on their offer to go with her, into the deep ruins.

Stupid. She was so stupid.

Her flame cloak had died from the force of the storm that raged down on the coast of Northern Skyrim a while ago, her clothes soaked from the melted snow and quickly refreezing around her. She knew that she had to be careful, as the ruins will be full of things that would kill her without a thought, but right now her bigger concern was the cold.

The glacier she stumbled through was still bitter cold, but the frigid bite of the wind and snow had ceased.

The camp outside, what little she could see of it remaining, gave her pause, though it seemed that those poor souls had just been caught in the storm unaware. Much like herself.

She scavenged for wood in the rubble in the mess that the adventures seemed to have left behind, and made herself a fire with magic.

Even knowing that she needed to get out of her wet clothes, she couldn’t risk being caught without the extra magical protection the robes gave her. She rolled out her bedroll, thankfully dry and not terribly crusted in ice, and wrapped herself in it, nearly on top of the fire.

She placed a few runes in a half circle around her, a wall of ice to her back.

Huddled, shivering next to the small fire was all she could do for now. Her limbs were too cold to function properly, and if she was being honest, she wasn’t sure how she was even still alive. A Nord probably wouldn’t even survive a storm like that.

Hours passed, and she found herself warming up, even just a bit, before she let herself slip into a light sleep, alert and wary of anything that might try and attack her while she was vulnerable.


	12. A Quiet Night

Nights were often quiet in the College. It was a quiet that Miraak found himself enjoying far more than he thought he would.

At first, the quiet reminded him of the eerie silence in Apocrypha, the only sounds made by rustling parchment and the hum of the Seekers.

Now, quiet nights meant comfort, safety, _her_.

“Something on your mind, darling?”

Her question pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked down at her, she was sprawled, much like one of the several cats that had taken up residence in the College, across his lap, her fifth knitting needle tucked behind her pointed ear, her back resting against a cushion that was propped against the sidewall of the alcove that held their favorite lounging spot. 

“It’s nothing, _dii lovaas_.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.” She paused a short moment. “You’re not distressed.”

He didn’t know how he didn’t see her empathic nature before, her abilities to feel his emotions far too obvious, and she was far better at it now that she was actively training her sixth sense.

“I can never repay you for freeing me.”

Her dark brows knitted together. “You never had to repay me.”

“You are far too kind for this world.” He reached up and caressed her cheek, and she leaned into his touch.

“You’re not the first to tell me that, and I disagree. I’m just as kind as I need to be for this world. There needs to be more kindness in it.”

“It’s in moments like this, if it were not for the _dovah_ I can feel under your skin, I would not think you _Dovahkiin_.”

She never took offence to his reminder that he found it hard to believe she was Dragonborn.

She smiled, reaching up, taking his large hand and treading her fingers though his own. “Which is why we complement each other, I think.”

He hummed in agreement.

She yawned, and stuck the needles of the sock she was knitting, including the one behind her ear back into the yarn she was working from, and stretched.

Miraak set the book he was half reading aside and scooped her into his lap sideways and stood.

She giggled and clung to his shoulders. “I’m still not sure if I’ll ever get over the fact how you can pick me up like I weigh nothing.”

He smirked down at her. “It comes in handy.”


	13. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay this is like really short my bad lmao

Cara was untrained, minus the small healing spells she had learned from her mother, when she walked into the courtyard of the Arcane University.

She knew that she wouldn’t get in, but her name held weight in history, in magical history.

The Arch-Mage _had_ let her in, only because she was a Direnni, and the other mages resented her for it.

And so began the longest and loneliest years of her life.

She had no friends, no colleagues for her first few decades at the University. She left, for her first few years, to study at the various Mage’s Guild Halls around Cyrodiil, and even one in Black Marsh for a few months.

There she made friends, but as she excelled past them in skill and understanding of Arcane knowledge, they too began to resent her.

While Cara was glad that she had left Summerset, to get away from everything that had happened, to finally study magic like she had always dreamed, she longed for the companionship of her mother, her sister.

As much as she loathed the cold, she knew in her heart that taking the teaching position in Skyrim would do her well, at least she hoped as such.

Perhaps there, she could find friends, a life outside of the University.


	14. Fight

“No. You’re not going by yourself. I will not allow it.”

“You think I want this? You think I want to go to Skywatch and join an underground rebel cause?”

“I know you don’t want to go, _dii kest_. Which is why you are _not_ going by yourself.”

Cara shook her head, her arms crossing over the dark leathers she had on. “You can’t come with, you know that. You’ll stand out, you’ll make it far more dangerous than it already will be-“

“Then you’re not going at all.” His stormy eyes swirled with anger, his simmering rage coming off of him in waves.

“I _have_ to.”

“_No._”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“You cannot tell me what to do, Miraak. I have to do this. We can either fight on my last night here or we can spend some time together. Your choice.”

His eyes narrowed. “I _said_, _you’re not leaving._” His Voice rumbled, one of his large hands gripping her arm. His grip wasn’t painful or tight, just firm in keeping her there.

She pushed him off of her, her eyes narrowing. “You don’t get to try and physically intimidate me. You don’t get to try and use your Voice to get me to do what you want.” She took a step back and squared her shoulders. “If you’re going to act like an absolute bastard, you can go elsewhere.”

Miraak shook his head. “There’s another way. You are not going on this mission without me.”

“The only other way is the destruction of my people! How can you not get that? You’re the last of your kind how can you be so thickheaded to not understand that this is the _only way?”_

“Perhaps had your people not ensured their destruction this wouldn’t be happening.”

She stared at him for a long while, disbelief at his words morphing into rage, sparks jumping off of her. “Fuck you.” She turned on her heel, stalking out of their room, but not before grabbing her packed bag and pulling up her hood. When Miraak tried to stop her from leaving, she glared daggers at him, and used a ward to again shove him back.

The door slammed, the sound final to their argument.


	15. Scars

She lay, half asleep on her stomach next to him, the only thing shielding her soft golden skin from the chill of the room the furs that had pooled at her hips.

Miraak was propped up on an elbow, his rough hands gently caressing her spine.

And for the first time, he noticed the faint silver lines that marred her otherwise perfect skin.

“_Dii lovaas?”_ he asked, gently tracing one of the small sliver lines.

“Hm?” she hummed, turning her head to face him, her eyes slowly opening to look at him.

“Where did you get this?”

She thought for a moment. “That one, I think, was when a group of Foresworn drove me off a cliff.”

Truly? She had never told him that.

“This one?” One on her shoulder blade, nearly faded away completely.

She shifted a bit, so he could see her shoulder, near her collarbone, tracing an equally faint line with a finger before resettling. “A lich in Moranda. One of the few I’ve ever heard of fighting with a weapon too. Nearly ran me through with his staff. I got lucky and he got my shoulder instead.” She yawned, snuggling further into her pillow.

“I thought you said you were adept at healing scars?” he teased.

A violet eye opened and stared at him. “If I wasn’t, I’d have far more than what you can see now.”

He leaned in and gently kissed the crown of her head.

The thought troubled him. He knew that up until recently, she did not fight with a weapon, but he also knew that she had lived two hundred years as an explorer. There was so much of her life he didn’t know about. How many times had she cheated death like with the lich that gave her that scar? He ran a finger across it again.

She rolled over, and snuggled into his chest. “Go to sleep, my darling so I can also sleep.” She mumbled.

He cocked a brow. “Tired, are we?” he said with a smirk.

“Yes, now go to sleep. I have class to teach in the morning.”

He rolled onto his back, letting her settle into the crook of his arm, as he grabbed the furs and covered them with it, nearly covering her all the way, just the very tip of her ear and her dark locks free from the blanket.

“I love you.” She mumbled against him.

“And I, you.”


	16. Wandering

Cara didn’t care where she went, as long as it was away from Alinor. She got on the first ship that was heading to the mainland, which happened to be going to Anvil.

She had never been off Alinor, and now she was going all the way to Cyrodiil. She had no plan, no idea where to go or what to do, and hardly any money.

When the ship landed in Anvil, she realized she was perhaps in over her head. That maybe she should take her chances and go back home.

But her home no longer felt like home.

Cara desperately wished Imaea was there with her.

The city wasn’t nearly as large as Alinor, but not much easier to navigate. She felt as if she was wandering aimlessly for hours down the streets.

She was trying to find an inn when the eye of the Mage’s Guild caught her attention. They were supposed to take anyone willing to learn, right? And she was a Direnni, maybe they’d let her into the Arcane University?

She gently pushed the door open, unknowingly stepping into what would change her life forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry this is really bad and short im very tired


	17. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so tired and busy sorry this is two days late

This was a dream, she knew. There was no way she was back on Alinor, Miraak at her side.

Cara often dreamt of Alinor, of her home, of her family. In those dreams, her father loved her, her brothers didn’t scorn her. They were happy; they were together.

Miraak had started to become part of these dreams as well.

She would lead him through the halls of her childhood home, hand in hand, showing him where she grew up, the gardens she would roam, the beaches she would swim in.

He was always quiet, a small smile on his face, the Summerset sun making his pale gold hair shine.

They had no worries. No responsibilities.

Though she was thankful for what she had, she always woke from those dreams a little sad at what could never be.


	18. Darkness

At first, the deep dark of the edges of Apocrypha didn’t bother him. After all, this wasn’t a permanent situation. He’d wait a few hundred years, learn all he could from the endless knowledge and pages of the equally endless library.

A few hundred years soon turned into a few thousand.

Miraak stared at his reflection in the dark water, the face staring back at him unrecognizable. His eyes had turned black, the corruption, evil and darkness of Apocrypha leeching into his very soul.

He was so alone, and he often wondered why and how it was he hadn’t lost his mind. Sahrotaar and the others, he figured.

Mora had plucked Sahrotaar from the sky and forced the dragon to do his bidding, and so the two _dov_ bonded over their hate for the Prince, even forming an uneasy friendship. The dragon did not trust Miraak, and Miraak had no trust for the dragon. But they both needed one another to keep sane.

Relonikiv and Kruziikrel came later, dragons that made deals with the Prince to escape the slaughter of their kind by the Dragonguard.

Miraak called them fools. It would have been a far better fate to die at the hands of mortals than do suffer at the whim of a bored Daedric Prince.

The Dragonborn waited, gathering power, gaining control of the dragons that now inhabited Apocrypha. He would have his freedom, and soon he enacted his plan.

His plan to take the All Maker stones was just too easy, but then he felt the resistance. Someone had broke free of his control.

A woman, an elf, an Altmer, if the descriptions in the books he had read were correct. She had resisted him.

When he came to her in her dreams, the first time they spoke, she had shined, though she was a mere ghost of her true form.

He had shrouded himself in the inky blackness he had become accustomed to, and she, shining though it.


	19. Training

The training ring behind Jorrvaskr was surrounded by the Companions, a few guards, and even a few civilians, the crash and clang of metal ringing though the air.

The twins were battling Cara, testing her resolve and how much she had learned.

No magic was allowed, except that which was the nature of her weapon and shield.

Despite the muscle mass and weight they had on her, they were matched in height, and she had become far stronger than anyone but her realized.

They both favored greatswords, which was becoming a problem as another heavy impact of Farkas’ sword landed on her shield, jarring her and making her grit her teeth.

Cara pushed up on the blade, and the power she put behind it surprised the Nord, which forced him back several steps, nearly tripping over his feet.

Vilkas circled her, coming to her undefended side, but she quickly lashed out with her spear, swiping in a wide arc that had him on the defensive.

As Farkas recovered, she used the momentum from her circular downswing to bring the spear head hurling down on the Nord, which he didn’t deflect in time.

The point stopped a few inches away from him, which would have left an incapacitating wound on him. Farkas knew he was beat, and stumbled back against the wooden railing.

Vilkas charged at her again, this time swiping low, but she dodged to the side and behind him, and hit him hard on the back with her shield, knocking him off balance. She swiped low, and completely knocked his feet out from under him, and the warrior went down, her spear poised to strike.

She reached down, hand open to help him up. He grabbed her hand, and she pulled him up with ease.

“Stendarr’s mercy, when did you get that strong?” Vilkas asked, panting slightly.

Cara shrugged. “It just happened.”

“It’s clear how you two can’t handle the spear and shield.” Miraak spoke from the sidelines. “You have no idea how to defend against a weapon longer than your greatsword. It was a good choice of a weapon for you, _dii kest._”

Vilkas ignored the Dragon Priest’s words. Cara strode over to the Atmoran, who handed her a waterskin.

“You’re still planting your feet too much. You need to be lighter, so you can move faster.” He continued.

“She’s fast enough to dance around both of us.” Vilkas commented, his grey eyes cold as he stared at the other man. She had become a very skilled fighter, perhaps even a master at her weapon in less than a year, how can he still be telling her she’s wrong?

“I’m far better when I can cast, you know that, but I’ll work on it.” she told him.

If she was that skilled without using magic or her Shouts, then what was she like in a real fight?


	20. Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I really wanted to write this scene since I have since changed my plans for the later fics so this is 10000000% au where Cara is the high queen of skyrim (its a long story come bug me about it on tumblr if you'd like) but i enjoyed this idea so much i figured i'd put it here!

Cara placed the Jagged Crown on her brow, the weight of it, making what was about to happen seem that much more permanent. She felt Miraak at her side.

“You do not have to do this, I know you do not want to.”

“I know your thoughts on the matter.”

“That does not mean that you have to do this.”

“He tried to kill me, if I let him live, who am I? Certainly not a queen. Not one that can lead her people anyway.”

Miraak gently grabbed her jaw to have her look at him, his eyes worried. “You have a gentle heart, _dii lovaas_. We all know this, no one can fault you for staying your hand.”

“It’s because I have a gentle heart they don’t take me seriously. It will break my heart, but,” she paused, stepping away from him, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin. “This is something that must be done.”

She left the tent without another word, and Miraak followed.

The wind whipped at their robes, the camp silent as Cara, Miraak, and their honor guard walked through the cliffside camp.

A large crowd had gathered, some of the Jarls that had ridden south with them to fight the Thalmor, some lords and knights of the Empire.

Cara’s gaze snapped to that of her mother, her sister, and two brothers.

“Carawen, _please_ I’m begging you, _please_ pardon him.” Her mother implored, fighting the grip of two of the honor guards that were holding her back.

“Please, escort them out of here,” she adverted her gaze from her family. “They don’t need to see this.”

“You traitorous _bitch._” Her older brother, Koredil swore, spitting on the ground at her feet.

“King Voriiel will put your head on a pike for this.” Nelaril added.

Cara stared at her brothers, sadness in her eyes. “I know you will never forgive me, but I’m sorry.”

Her sister was crying into their mother’s shoulder, but the guards took them away as she had asked.

Cara brought her gaze to the man kneeling in the center of the circle that had formed.

“Lord Falnar Direnni. You stand accused of attempted murder, and attempted assassination of the High Queen of Skyrim. How do you plead?”

The Altmer in front of her stared at her, venom in his blue-purple eyes. “I only regret that I didn’t throw you to the sea when you were a child, _graxifalas_ _hulkynd_. You’ve been a disgrace since your mother birthed you.”

“Before I sentence you, father, I would speak for myself for once, not as Queen, but as your daughter.”

“You are no daughter of mine.”

Cara smiled. “You have said that all my life, but my imperfection comes from you, your bloodline. For years I thought, like a stupid child perhaps one day we could reconcile. But now I know that would never be the case.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “You are right, though. You are not my father, not really. I share your blood, but you do not share mine. Auri-El gave me my soul, Mara blessed it. I am the Last Dragonborn, I am of the Dragonblood, and that still doesn’t matter. All that matters is, I became the very thing you didn’t want me to be. And that is enough for me.”

The elf shook his head. “I pray for the day you die, even if it is not by my hand.”

Cara let out a deep breath. “Lord Falnar Direnni, I, Carawen Direnni, Arch Mage of the College of Winterhold, Stormcrown, _Laat Dovahkiin_, and High Queen of Skyrim, sentence you to die for your crimes against Skyrim and her people.”

“You won’t do it. You’re _weak_.”

“May the gods have mercy on you, father.”

“_MUL QAH DIIV!_”

Cara’s spectral dragon form settled over her shoulders, a blanket of black, gold and violet shimmering against her robes. Regal horns formed and fanned out from her brow, great transparent black wings settling on her back.

A realization settled over the old elf’s features as she took several steps towards him. “It wasn’t a lie, you really are-“

“_Dovahkiin_,_ geh, bormah_.” Her Voice made the sky rumble.

Cara saw the fear in his eyes .“_I’m sorry it has to end this way.” _she murmured, no one but perhaps Miraak understanding her through the rumble of the sky.

“_KRII LUN AUS!”_

Her Voice rang out into the night, and Falnar slumped over into the dirt without a sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> graxifalas hulkynd- Aldmeri for 'Disgraceful Broken Child'


	21. Stars

Miraak often looked at the stars, the constellations. It was part of his job, after all; to read the sky and record it. He did less recording now, just content to admire the stars while _ok kest_ slept soundly in their small tent.

She had taken first watch, so now in the wee hours of the morning, the stars were bright and glittering overhead, small specks interwoven with the fabric of the night sky the Northern Lights made.

Tonight they were hues of blues, purples, and pinks. The purple was the exact shade of her eyes.

It was quiet nights like this, were there was nothing stirring in the brush to disturb his thoughts, he would reflect on how drastically his life had changed in just a few months. The selfish part of him wanted her. Wanted her to return the feelings he had tried to bury deep inside himself.

It hadn’t worked.


	22. Trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI SORRY IVE BEEN DEAD
> 
> school has been kicking my ass and the last week was absolute hell. im trying to get caught up on these so this might be the only one i post tonight? maybe not?? ANYWAY IM SO SORRY

“Do not ask again, or you will be punished.”

Cara looked away from her father’s sneer, her eyes landing on her slippered feet.

“Just, let her take lessons as a healer, Falnar, that’s all she’s asking. She’s got the gift-“

Her mother, Mornwe, flinched under the mer’s hard gaze.

“Our daughters betrotheds do not want _gifted_ wives. They want what was promised to them. And _she_-“ he jabbed a finger at Cara, “shows the disgrace of her ancestors.”

_Your ancestors_. She wanted to retort, but held her tongue.

“She can be a lady, a wife, _and_ pursue magic. My family has done it for thousands of years. She’s a Direnni, Falnar. Magic is in her blood.”

“I. Said. _No._ And should you talk back to me again, my wife or not, you will be reprimanded. Do I make myself clear?”

Mornwe’s eyes widened at his words.

Cara shook her head and rose her gaze to her father’s.

“Don’t you dare touch my mother.”

The mer whirled on her, disbelief marked his features before it twisted to rage.

He struck her, but despite her cheek stinging, she looked him in the eyes, and felt _something_ bubble in the back of her throat, a power she had never experienced before, tried to force its way out her lips, but she held it in.

“That was a warning, girl. Remember that.” He spun on his heel, and stalked out of the manor.

“Cara-“

“Mother, don’t. I’d do it again. But-“ she took a breath. “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t leave this estate. None of us can. I can count on one hand how many times he’s let us out of here in the last _year_.”

A soft golden glow came from her mother’s hand, which she brought up to her daughter’s cheek to soothe the sting. “I know, my love. Everything is just, difficult right now. With the war and everything, he wants to keep us safe.”

Cara stepped from her mother’s touch. “Safe? We’re on Alinor! We’re far inland, Cloudrest is just a few moutaintops over, and we’re just a few miles from the capital. We’re far safer than so many others are!”

Her mother had no reply to her truthful words.

“I know there’s so much more out there, more than being trapped like a bird in a cage.”


	23. Academia

Cara fell hard into her studies after the Archmage admitted her to the Arcane University.

Her mind was like a sponge, absorbing any and all information given to her. Her mother had been right, she had a gift when it came to restoration magic, so she focused on honing that skill first.

Soon, she was excelling, surpassing those who had studied restoration for years, in just a few months of practice and study. After a decade, the Archmage and the Masters of restoration declared her one of their own, and she began to teach a few classes in the restorative arts.

But Cara was never one to sit still. She dove into destruction after that, finding an affinity for lighting. Destruction came slower, but her deep mana reserves that she had trained in her years of restoration aided her in her endeavors. Soon, she was proficient enough to try and explore the Ayleid ruins that had captured her imagination so as a child.

Cara poured everything she had into her research, as dangerous as it was.

She was a born scholar, and she found it hard to believe that she had spent twenty years of her life _not_ studying and discovering that which had long been lost.


End file.
